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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781181">Endure</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure'>strangeallure</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Halloween Short Fic Challenge (2020) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Discovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>31 Days Of Halloween, Gen, Halloween, Horror, Inspired by a Movie, Prisoner of War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:08:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>507</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They haven’t made him choose his pain in weeks, maybe longer, and the barrages of tests have stopped, too. </i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Halloween Short Fic Challenge (2020) [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Endure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This October, I'm trying to write a short fic (ideally around 500 words) every day. I'm using a list of best horror movies as my inspiration, but the connection will typically be quite loose. You'll find the day's film in the end notes.</p><p>Happy Halloween! 🎃</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It starts with a clang. Metallic and intense.</p><p>Then the thudding sets in, like a mallet pounding against deerskin stretched tight. A war drum.</p><p>Loud. Louder. Nauseating.</p><p>It’s all in his head, of course. In his poor, mistreated head. And in his bones and his flesh and the echo chamber of his skull.</p><p>He should be used to it by now. The pain of waking up in this place he’s come to know too well, in this body he barely recognizes.</p><p>His mouth is dry and his hands are stiff and he’s ravenous, always ravenous, acid churning in his stomach, biting up his gullet.</p><p>He touches his side and feels his ribs sticking out like spokes on a wheel. Everything feels wrong. His clammy skin and withering muscles and bleary eyes.</p><p>They haven’t made him choose his pain in weeks, maybe longer, and the barrages of tests have stopped, too. Physical, medical, mental. Probes and needles. Weights and labyrinths. And maybe he should’ve refused to cooperate when they prodded him like cattle, should’ve remained stoic, repeating his name, rank and service number, giving them nothing else, but he’s seen prisoners die in here. Untreated infections, internal wounds, dehydration.</p><p>Despite everything, Ash Tyler wants to live.</p><p>So he waits for one of his torturers to return. Offer him the chance to earn his keep, jump through hoops or answer questions in exchange for sustenance.</p><p>Eventually, the door opens.</p><p>He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s been hoping for it to be her.</p><p>The female Klingon in white armor. The one he overheard calling him “a promising candidate”, the one who told the guards she needed him alive.</p><p>“Ash Tyler.” She says his name deliberately.</p><p>“Do you want to live?” Her Federation Standard is good, but her disdain for the language shines through, as if she dislikes the taste of it, as if human words are too puny for her Klingon mouth, too small.</p><p>“Yes” he hisses, voice cracking.</p><p>“Those before you have given the same reply,” her face is immobile, unreadable, “but they could not endure what I asked of them.”</p><p>“Anything,” he says, digging his too-long nails into his palms to keep from reaching out. “I will do anything.”</p><p>“We will fuse your mind with that of a Klingon warrior,” she says without preamble. “You will willingly accept his thoughts and beliefs. You will welcome him into your awareness like a brother. You will give him complete access to your own memories and feelings.” She fixes him with her startling blue eyes. “If you succeed, we will let you go.”</p><p>There are implications he should consider, but he can’t. <em>Freedom</em>, that’s all he can think about.</p><p>“It will be a long and painful process,” she explains. “If you lose focus or recoil even once, you will die.” She smiles, baring sharp teeth. “We will not honor your body. We will discard you and let you rot.”</p><p>“I can do it,” he says with feverish confidence, frenzied energy buzzing beneath his skin.</p><p>He’s going to get off this ship.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was inspired by Saw (2004) and Jigsaw's fixation with making his victims prove their will to live.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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